Monday, March 29, 2010
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
A Trashy Tribute
There is a marathon here in Jordan that is becoming more and more popular.
(I'm not really sure why.)
The race involves relay teams that run from the Dead Sea down to the Red Sea. The run starts on the shores of the Dead Sea at an altitude of -415m (1,361 feet) below sea level. From there teams make their way through the desert valleys to an altitude of +120m (393 feet) above sea level before descending towards the shores of the Gulf of Aqaba 242 Km (150 miles) away at sea level.
Crazy, huh?
The winners this year completed the race in 14 hours and 13 minutes. My crazy runnin' hubby ran the race in 2005.
This year was another special year. No, my hubby did not run. His running career was sidelined by an injury after the 2007 Chicago Marathon. Instead, a friend of ours ran. And look what he ran for:
Maybe I'll organize a marathon for our neighborhood trashy cats. I'll drop them (all 4 million of them) off in the desert and see how far they can make it!
(I'm not really sure why.)
The race involves relay teams that run from the Dead Sea down to the Red Sea. The run starts on the shores of the Dead Sea at an altitude of -415m (1,361 feet) below sea level. From there teams make their way through the desert valleys to an altitude of +120m (393 feet) above sea level before descending towards the shores of the Gulf of Aqaba 242 Km (150 miles) away at sea level.
Crazy, huh?
The winners this year completed the race in 14 hours and 13 minutes. My crazy runnin' hubby ran the race in 2005.
This year was another special year. No, my hubby did not run. His running career was sidelined by an injury after the 2007 Chicago Marathon. Instead, a friend of ours ran. And look what he ran for:
Maybe I'll organize a marathon for our neighborhood trashy cats. I'll drop them (all 4 million of them) off in the desert and see how far they can make it!
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Apricot Lady: MIA
Well, I've been MIA for a bit.
Food poisoning turned amoeba.
Taking drugs that 'may have psychological side effects'.
They do.
Yet, there are still laughs coming my way.
While my great hubby was out buying more Gatorade, he brought this picture home for me.
Some products here just would NOT sell in the US.
Food poisoning turned amoeba.
Taking drugs that 'may have psychological side effects'.
They do.
Yet, there are still laughs coming my way.
While my great hubby was out buying more Gatorade, he brought this picture home for me.
Some products here just would NOT sell in the US.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
I Love a Good Fashion Statement
My husband will tease me until the day I die.
In college, I received a degree in Business Administration with a major in Marketing and a minor in...
Fashion Merchandising.
For some reason that cracks him up.
My theory was, if I had to sit through classes like Economics and Accounting, I could at least look forward to classes like Visual Merchandising and Buying. A class all about Buying...what could be better?
Although I don't look like it most days, I love a bit of fashion here and there.
So, the fashion statement I saw today that made the fashion-ista in me smile?
The cute little Bedouin shepherd gall that lives in the tent in the mountains behind my house.
The one that brings her sheep herd down the hill each morning and through the empty lot next to our house.
The one that leads her sheep to the empty lots around town, helping them to find small nibbles of grass.
She carries a purse.
It always matches her dress.
In college, I received a degree in Business Administration with a major in Marketing and a minor in...
Fashion Merchandising.
For some reason that cracks him up.
My theory was, if I had to sit through classes like Economics and Accounting, I could at least look forward to classes like Visual Merchandising and Buying. A class all about Buying...what could be better?
Although I don't look like it most days, I love a bit of fashion here and there.
So, the fashion statement I saw today that made the fashion-ista in me smile?
The cute little Bedouin shepherd gall that lives in the tent in the mountains behind my house.
The one that brings her sheep herd down the hill each morning and through the empty lot next to our house.
The one that leads her sheep to the empty lots around town, helping them to find small nibbles of grass.
She carries a purse.
It always matches her dress.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Will I Conform?
There is one part of culture here that I have yet to conform to: EVERYONE dyes their hair.
I am going gray (ever so slightly compared to all the hair I have).
This causes a lot of trauma.
Let me back up a bit.
I love a good hair cut. This requires a good hair dresser.
Meet Anis (pronounced "A-niece" - like the daughter of your sibling with an A in front).
This guy knows how to do hair.
How do I know? He rescued me from one of the worst haircuts I have EVER received.
We were on a whirlwind visit of Syria. We had made it to the village where our friends that we were traveling with were from. As a gift to me (since we were the first Americans to ever visit their village), she took me to get my hair done. What a thoughtful gift. I would at least look nice as we were paraded around to nearly every house in the village, attending parties, eating lots of yummy food, and touring the villages impressive olive tree orchards and olive oil presses.
I was a bit nervous when we showed up and the 'regular guy' was not there. Instead a very young guy with a faux-hawk was willing and ready to do my hair. He proceeded to cut my hair as though I were a bush and he was Edward Scissorhand. There was nothing that could be done afterward. My hair did not even look good in a headband. I suffered greatly. See evidence below:
The first thing I did when we arrived home was run to Anis.
He looked. He thought. He laughed. He looked some more. He cut a bit here a and bit there. He looked. He laughed again. He made some hair magic. And amazingly...fixed it! I was so happy.
Fast forward 5 years.
We were recently in the big city. So, I booked an appointment to see Anis. There are many steps you go through at a salon here. And this is what I heard along the way...
Receptionist: Good morning! You are here for a cut and style? Do you want your gray dyed too?
Me: No
Hair washer boy: Good morning! Just here for a cut? Do you want your gray dyed too?
Me: No
Hair brusher boy: Good morning! You should get your hair dyed before your cut, just to cover up the gray.
Me: No
Anis: Hello! Why don't you have a color today? Some low lights to cover up the gray?
Me: No
Hair style/blow dryer guy: Hello! Why didn't you do low lights today? Just to cover up the gray.
Me: Maybe next time.
Maybe next time. Doubt it. I will not conform!
But, then again, this culture HAS made me do stranger things.
I am going gray (ever so slightly compared to all the hair I have).
This causes a lot of trauma.
Let me back up a bit.
I love a good hair cut. This requires a good hair dresser.
Meet Anis (pronounced "A-niece" - like the daughter of your sibling with an A in front).
This guy knows how to do hair.
How do I know? He rescued me from one of the worst haircuts I have EVER received.
We were on a whirlwind visit of Syria. We had made it to the village where our friends that we were traveling with were from. As a gift to me (since we were the first Americans to ever visit their village), she took me to get my hair done. What a thoughtful gift. I would at least look nice as we were paraded around to nearly every house in the village, attending parties, eating lots of yummy food, and touring the villages impressive olive tree orchards and olive oil presses.
I was a bit nervous when we showed up and the 'regular guy' was not there. Instead a very young guy with a faux-hawk was willing and ready to do my hair. He proceeded to cut my hair as though I were a bush and he was Edward Scissorhand. There was nothing that could be done afterward. My hair did not even look good in a headband. I suffered greatly. See evidence below:
The first thing I did when we arrived home was run to Anis.
He looked. He thought. He laughed. He looked some more. He cut a bit here a and bit there. He looked. He laughed again. He made some hair magic. And amazingly...fixed it! I was so happy.
Fast forward 5 years.
We were recently in the big city. So, I booked an appointment to see Anis. There are many steps you go through at a salon here. And this is what I heard along the way...
Receptionist: Good morning! You are here for a cut and style? Do you want your gray dyed too?
Me: No
Hair washer boy: Good morning! Just here for a cut? Do you want your gray dyed too?
Me: No
Hair brusher boy: Good morning! You should get your hair dyed before your cut, just to cover up the gray.
Me: No
Anis: Hello! Why don't you have a color today? Some low lights to cover up the gray?
Me: No
Hair style/blow dryer guy: Hello! Why didn't you do low lights today? Just to cover up the gray.
Me: Maybe next time.
Maybe next time. Doubt it. I will not conform!
But, then again, this culture HAS made me do stranger things.
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